


We Walk Alone

by static_abyss



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 14:16:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/static_abyss/pseuds/static_abyss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron doesn’t know what it is about the boy that grabs his attention, though, to be fair, he never knows what it is about any of the boys. He thinks that maybe, after all this time, he and Duro are just done being alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Walk Alone

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for copperpippin (LJ/tumblr), and for her wonderful art prompt, which you can enjoy [here](http://copperpippin.tumblr.com/post/54378909339/felt-like-i-wanted-some-vampire-boys-for-the). Title for the work taken from Green Day's _Boulevard of Broken Dreams_. Many thanks to theswearingkind, who keeps trying to teach me how to properly use commas even when I keep forgetting. This work would not be the same without her. 
> 
> Please take a look at the tags before reading, and also the notes at the bottom for more detailed warnings.

Agron remembers many things from lives long past. He remembers Rome in the years before Christ, back when fucking was just fucking and no one gave a damn who anyone else fucked. He remembers the early Christians who hunted down all the innocents but missed him. He remembers revolutions, the discovery of the New World, warm bodies underneath him, and the gasps of boys when he fucked them. Agron remembers well the screams of the people he's killed, the terror in the eyes of the boys he's fed off of. 

Most of his memories, though, blur together after a few decades. Too many faces. Too much blood. Only the few memories that do stand out are what define him now. 

It's always the boys with long hair and graceful arches to their necks, the ones who breathe out his name between gasps. Sometimes, they'll be street kids, barely legal, most likely not. Other times, Agron will invite them to a bar for a drink. They'll be elitists who want to be fucked by strangers in bars, businessmen with trophy wives and children. Agron likes these men best, because they melt so easily in his hands. They're the best fucks, so eager, so easy to please.

Agron doesn't always feed off them, the boys or the men, but all of them find their way to his bed somehow.

Duro says that Agron is looking for someone, that maybe he forgot who it was, because it's been so long. But Agron wouldn't forget because he remembers almost everything about his life before this. He tries not to think about it, though. It's better not to think too hard on things that cannot be changed, better not to linger on regret. And if Agron chooses to make love to beautiful boys, if he chooses to love them, then that's no one's business but his own.

If he's soft underneath, so what? It's to be expected after so many years.

-

The boy is alone, cigarette between his fingers, other hand tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. He smells like pot and cheap beer mixed with the stink of the alley he's smoking in. He's alone, though by the looking at the boy, Agron is surprised. He's seen boys like this before, broken boys from broken homes, who seek comfort where they can get it. They're the ones who get picked up first. This boy, though, only has his joint and his large hoodie to keep him company. It's safer than seeking comfort in the beds of men who frequent the street corners. Though, Agron thinks, it won't be long before this one finds his way to someone's bed.

-

"You watch him a lot," Duro says one day. Not, _too much_ , but a lot, so that Agron knows this is a warning.

They're standing on the roof of a three story brownstone, the door to the roof propped open behind them. The boy is across the street, in the same alley he's always in, wearing the same gray hoodie, and smoking the same cheap cigarettes. When Agron passed him in the street on his way here, the boy smelled like expensive wine. His shoes were new, and Agron is too old to pretend he doesn't know why.

"Do you think he's a fang banger?" Agron asks.

Duro laughs. "Why do you come here? Where the fuck did I meet Chadara and Pietros?"

Agron knows what this side of town is for, knows that everyone who comes to these streets is either a vampire, or food for one. This is where Agron picks his pretty men, the rich ones from the bars, the poor ones from the alleys. Agron knows that the people he picks up don't really want to live, because if they did, they wouldn't hang around with vampires. He has been well aware since he started watching the boy that someone was going to pick him up eventually. The boy is perfect, long hair framing a youthful face, long eyelashes, and dark eyes. He's a pretty, broken thing, everything that attracts Agron's kind.

Vampires are dead the minute they become vampires. It figures that they'd be infatuated with broken things. Life shines brightest in those who want to die. 

"You're distracted," Duro says, breaking Agron out of his thoughts.

"Pietros belongs to Barca now," Agron answers, his eyes still on the boy with the hoodie.

"Yes, and Chadara found someone with more money to fuck," Duro says, but he's not angry. Duro never is.

Since Agron can remember, Duro has always been patient, more gentle and understanding than Agron is. Duro wouldn't have stopped Pietros or Chadara from leaving even if he wanted them to stay. Agron used to think it was foolish, to show weakness in front of humans that way, but he's come to accept that it's good that one of them remembers to be kind.

"Did you find anyone else yet?" Agron asks.

He hasn't looked away from the boy in the alley, and the boy hasn't moved. He's staring down the street, inching further into alley when cars drive by. No one's even glanced at the boy, though Tiberius and Sabinus have already seen him.

"You should stop staring so much," Duro says instead. "The boy isn't going to get his vampire if you don't stop staring."

"I didn't say he was mine," Agron says, though now that Duro's said it, he understands why no one will talk to the boy.

Agron's older than most of the vampires here, and Spartacus doesn't take human boys. By seniority, this boy belongs to Agron or Duro. 

"You can have him," he tells Duro. "But he already has someone to buy him things."

His brother shrugs. "He's not Spatacus's. So he's yours if you want him."

Agron doesn't have to say that he does. Duro knows.

"Either talk to him or let him go," Duro says. "It's not fair to the boy."

-

Agron means to leave the boy alone, but he's there the next night. The boy is in his alley as always, smoking cigarettes and ignoring the vampires walking the streets. No one talks to Agron, and they move out of the way when he passes.

It's easy to cross the street and walk over once Agron's made up his mind. He figures he deserves to have fun with this boy, because Agron saw him first even if another vampire picked him up. They have their laws, and everyone lives by them. Agron can have this boy if he wants. Fuck whoever tries to get in his way.

"What's your name?" Agron asks, coming to a stop across the boy.

If the boy is surprised, he doesn't show it. His gaze is steady when he looks up at Agron, light brown eyes raking over Agron's face, down his neck, and all the way to the shoes Agron is wearing. Agron dresses normally enough for the time period, dark blue jeans and t-shirts, suits when they are appropriate. He has on black Chuck Taylors, because they're Duro's favorite. 

Up close, the boy is even younger than Agron thought, early 20's. His face is unlined, though there are the beginnings of wrinkles around his eyes as he squints at Agron. His hair falls past his shoulders, and though he smells of alcohol and cigarettes, the boy's hair smells clean.

"Who wants to know?" the boy asks, flicking his finished cigarette away and pulling out a pack from his left hoodie pocket. He pats himself down until he finds his lighter, pulls out a cigarette from the pack and lights it. 

The smoke does little to mask the smell of garbage permeating the alley. Agron rakes his eyes down the boy, past the large hoodie and down the jeans, to the new shoes. He's smaller up close, would probably come to just below Agron's chin if they were to move closer. The boy is leaning against the alley wall, but his eyes are defiant. He doesn't look defensive. The boy looks ready to attack.

"I'm Agron."

"You a vamp?" the boy asks, eyeing Agron's clothes.

"Yes."

"You don't act like a vamp," the boy says, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Aren't vamps supposed to be all mysterious and shit? They don't just answer questions."

Agron grins. "That's just fucking stupid," he says. 

The boy laughs and nods his head. "Nasir," he says, tossing his head to the side a bit in greeting.

"Who do you belong to?" Agron asks.

Nasir smirks as he takes a drag from his cigarette. There's amusement in the curve of his mouth and the crinkling of his eyes. 

"I don't belong to anyone," he says. "Haven't since I ran from home."

Agron shakes his head, doesn't believe a word Nasir is saying. "Who's the vampire buying you things?"

Nasir sighs, leans more securely against the brick wall behind him. He flicks away his cigarette and stuffs his hands in his hoodie pocket. 

"There is none."

Agron laughs then. "You're lying," he says.

"There isn't," Nasir insists, glaring at Agron. "I get my shit by fucking humans. Same way most hookers do."

"Then why are you here?"

Nasir looks down at his shoes and doesn't answer. Agron doesn't look away, but he's used to it by now, the way Nasir demands his attention just by existing. He watches the shadows play over Nasir's face, the light highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones. Nasir is so young, and it's odd that this should be the thing that strikes Agron the most. He'd thought that after so many years, he'd stopped noticing the ages.

Agron sighs, doesn't look away when Nasir looks up at him.

"Why are most people here?" Nasir asks.

Agron doesn't need to answer the question. They both know why.

"Life's not worth living," Nasir says, shrugging. "This is the most painless way to go."

"It always hurts to die," Agron tells him. 

He doesn't mean just physical pain. There are people who will mourn for their dead. A mother will cry for Nasir, a father, maybe a brother or sister. All the people who come to these alleys never think that there are others out there besides themselves. That even if their mothers and fathers are the worst there are, they're still _their_ mothers and fathers. It never gets any easier, because Agron's forgotten what his mother and father looked like, but he's never forgotten what he'd felt for them.

Nasir moves away from the wall, closer to Agron, his light brown eyes tracing over Agron's face. They stare at each other in silence, and Agron takes the opportunity to just study Nasir. There's nothing about Nasir's face that Agron hasn't memorized. He knows intimately the lines across Nasir's forehead, the scar along the left side of Nasir's face. He's watched long enough that he could tell Nasir apart from others from just the way he walks.

The expressions on Nasir's face are a different matter. Agron does not know Nasir enough to understand what the unwavering stare is. He's not sure if he's seeing sadness or pity. And he thinks he wouldn't mind learning what sadness looks like on Nasir's face, if he could learn what happiness looks like on him too.

"How long since you were human?" Nasir asks finally.

Agron shakes his head. "Too long."

"You forgot," Nasir says, his eyes never leaving Agron as he speaks. "Living hurts too."

-

Agron decides to ask Nasir out because Agron would give anything to be alive again, to be a boy and grow old with someone. Duro is right. Agron is looking for a boy, the same boy he was probably looking for when he was human. Agron would give anything to have his life back, because immortality is lonely. And he wants Nasir to understand that, even with pain, life is much better than what Agron and Duro are now.

"Nasir," Agron greets the next night.

Nasir looks at him, frowning as he takes in the smile on Agron's face.

"What's wrong?" Agron asks. 

"You called me by my name," Nasir says, eyeing Agron with distrust. "Why?"

"It's your name," Agron answers.

"They don't usually do that," Nasir tells him, moving away from the alley wall and coming towards Agron. "Vamps don't like giving their humans names."

"It's easy to get attached if you call someone by their name."

"Do you want to get attached?" Nasir asks, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Agron shrugs. "I want you to understand that life is better than being dead."

"Why?"

"It gets boring living so long," Agron grins. 

Nasir relaxes visibly. "Okay," he says. "Whatever."

-

On Mondays, they go to seedy bars in the city, dance to the crappy music, and Agron buys Nasir drinks. On Tuesdays, they pick a restaurant to go to, and Nasir eats whatever he ordered plus whatever Agron is pretending to eat. On Wednesdays, they go to the movies, and Agron is shocked at how far the world has come in terms of picture quality. He almost believes the pictures are real when Nasir takes him to a 3D movie. 

They don't really get to Thursdays because Agron gets lost in watching Nasir somewhere in between Wednesdays and Thursdays. He stops noticing what they're doing and starts paying attention to the way Nasir's eyes wrinkle in the corners when he laughs. He learns to love all the lines on Nasir, the wrinkles that are starting to form, because they mean Nasir is alive and living. Agron starts learning that there's a way to make Nasir laugh, that if he leans a little too close, Nasir will hold his breath. And eventually he stops noticing even that, too carried away with who the two of them are to really notice anything else.

-

It's a Saturday just after the sun goes down, in the middle of winter, when Nasir asks Agron over to his place. They haven't been over to each other's places ever, and it isn't until Agron is climbing the steps to Nasir's apartment that he realizes. 

Nasir lives in a one bedroom apartment in the bad side of town, bars on windows, and no one out after midnight. His living room merges into his bedroom, and the bathroom is tucked into the little hallway that leads to the kitchen.

Agron sits on the single wooden chair while Nasir runs to fix his bedroom. It's nice to sit there and listen to the clothes flying across the room and Nasir's quiet cursing. Agron's starting to forget how young Nasir is, starting to forget that this is all temporary, that Agron will have to go home at the end of the night. He's doing a good job at forgetting that one day Nasir isn't going to show up at the alley anymore.

Duro's reminded Agron many times now, on nights when Agron cuts it too close and comes home just as the sun is rising. They don't burn in the sun, just get weaker, and it's better to be inside than to be vulnerable in the sunlight. Not that they have many things to worry about. It's just easier the less people know about them and the less risk they take. It's the way Spartacus wants things done.

They listen to Spartacus because he's oldest, though he's never turned anyone. Agron can't remember the vampire who turned him and Duro. He thinks it's sad, that someone who must have meant so much to him means so little now. He can't help but wonder when he will stop meaning anything to Nasir.

"You think really loud for a vamp," Nasir says coming out of the bedroom.

"And you're quiet for a human."

Nasir smiles, fond. He leans against his bedroom doorway, one hand out towards Agron.

"Come on," he says. "I want to show you my bedroom."

Agron goes and Nasir really does show him the bedroom. He shows Agron where he bent his bedframe trying to get it up the steps when he first moved in. He shows Agron where he hides his pot in case anyone ever breaks in. There's a loose floorboard at the back of the closet where Nasir keeps the things he's gotten from earlier fucks.

"I haven't been with anyone since you," he tells Agron.

Agron doesn't say anything, just pulls Nasir up and carries him to the bed. Bloodlust, Agron thinks, has nothing on this. As he got older, he stopped noticing the way blood smelled, stopped noticing when he was hungry because he could go longer without feeding. But the feeling of wanting another person is not something he could ever get used to. There have been so few people that Agron has truly wanted to be intimate with, and even if there had been more, every human is so different, every feeling a slight variation of the last.

Agron wants Nasir in a way that will be uniquely theirs. It's all he can hope to keep once Nasir decides to leave.

"I want you to change me," Nasir whispers in between kisses. "I want to be with you and Duro. I want to stay."

Agron presses him down into sheets that smell like old cigarettes and says yes with everything but his voice.

-

"He wants me to change him," Agron tells Duro a week after Nasir asks him to.

Duro sits up on the settee across from Agron and says nothing. Agron is lying on the couch, his long legs touching the other end. He wants Duro to ask what Agron is going to do, but the silence means that Duro's assuming Agron is going to say yes.

"I haven't told him yes yet," Agron says.

Duro just stares, waiting for Agron to continue.

"I don't know what you want me to say," Agron says, angry already. 

"What is it about him?" Duro asks. "Why him and not the other boys?"

Agron shifts on the couch, stretches his legs out on their coffee table. He's suddenly not angry anymore, just lonely and sad. He and Duro are both lonely even with each other for company, and Agron is just tired of it all. He wants someone who will stay with him, someone whom Duro will love, and someone who will love Duro back. Agron wants Nasir because when Nasir holds Agron's hand, Agron feels warm.

"I'm old," Agron sighs. "Maybe I just want to settle down."

"The kid's a junkie."

"Nasir," Agron says, ignoring Duro's eye roll. "His name is Nasir, and he said he'd come with me. With us."

Duro stands up, start pacing in front of Agron, and says nothing. They stopped trying to add people to their family when Diona walked away. Duro hadn't spoken for months, and even though Agron had hunted down the vampire who took Diona from them, it wasn't the same after. It's why Duro doesn't keep humans anymore. He'd rather let them go than get attached, and Agron can't blame him for that. 

They've lost a lot in their long lives. It's easier when it's just the two of them, because they will never leave. But it's been years since Agron's let himself truly love a human, even longer since a boy has asked to stay. They all want immortality, to be faster, to be stronger. None of them want to adopt two brothers, but Nasir says he does. And Agron knows Duro will love Nasir, knows Nasir would fit so well in their lives.

"You'd like him," Agron says.

Duro sighs, sad as he looks at Agron. "It's been so long."

"I love him."

Duro stops walking. He stares at Agron, and Agron knows Duro is trying to see the lie, to find the doubt. He won't find any, because Agron made up his mind that he was keeping Nasir the minute Nasir agreed to be his.

"If he hurts you," Duro says, slow so that Agron won't miss anything. "I will hunt him down myself."

-

Agron turns Nasir at the end of the month, just as December is turning into January. Duro rolls his eyes, but doesn't make any comments. 

Nasir is responsive in Agron's arms. He fits easily against Agron, his head tucked underneath Agron's chin. Duro places a hand on Nasir's head, smiles when Nasir looks at him. They understand each other in a way Agron wasn't expecting. It's like they're brothers already, and Agron hopes with everything he has that this will last. 

Dying is painful and Nasir squirms in Agron's arms, his cries echoing on the brownstone roof. Three brownstones over, lights come on, but it's just Pietros going to see Barca. The wind blows over the traffic smells, oil and sweat. The leaves from the four trees along their street rustle as the wind picks up. There's a cat crossing the street.

"Will he be okay?" Duro whispers, watching Nasir's body spasm as Agron holds him.

"He's strong," Agron answers. "He'll be fine."

-

Nasir takes to being a vampire too easily for Agron's comfort. Nasir is hungry like all newborns, and blood from willing humans doesn't satisfy him. Agron can see Nasir losing control with each passing day, the urge to be free, to chase, stronger than whatever bonds he now has with Agron and Duro. Nasir says he is happy, shows both Duro and Agron through words and action. But newborns aren't meant to live in brownstones.

Duro notices it too, though he says nothing. 

-

Nasir leaves at the beginning of the new decade. Duro doesn't go after him, and neither he nor Agron speak until Nasir comes back.

"I'm sorry," Nasir says, as he presses kisses all over Agron's face. "I'm sorry."

He's warm from new blood, and Agron shivers. He thinks it's been a week since he last fed. He lets Nasir cradle his head, lets Nasir stroke his hair, and lets Nasir murmur words that Agron doesn't even try to understand. Duro curls up next to them, and the three of them shiver together, because, yes, this is what they've been missing. This is what home feels like now.

Agron doesn't blame Nasir, and neither does Duro. The new ones always leave. They need to find out who they are. They need to experience things for themselves, need to feed without restraint, need to hunt. Agron understands. Duro understands. The important thing now is that Nasir came back.

"They never do, you know," Duro says later. 

No one asks him to clarify what he's talking about.

"I'm here," Nasir says, putting his head on Duro's shoulder.

Agron tightens his hold on Nasir's hand. He's real, Agron tells himself. But it isn't until weeks later, once Duro is not afraid that Nasir will leave again, that Agron really believes Nasir is here to stay. He lets Nasir tell him with kisses and the feel of their bodies coming together. The full moon hangs bright in the sky, a witness to the promises Nasir makes into the spaces between their bodies. And when Nasir looks at Agron, his eyes sincere, gaze unwavering, Agron finally believes.

**Author's Note:**

> There are mentions of suicide in the beginning scenes of the fic, though there is no actual suicide. Also, mentions of prostitution, mentions of death, and mentions of drug use. There is no explicit mention of blood, except for casual mentions of vampires needing to drink blood to survive.


End file.
